


dealbreaker

by Magali_Dragon



Series: one shots and other drabbles [27]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks, Dorks in Love, F/M, Idiots in Love, Maybe a crack fic, and kit who said his GF broke up with him in school for wearing socks and sandals, our smol granny Emilia made me do it, probably controversial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Jon and Dany make some questionable fashion choices through the years.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: one shots and other drabbles [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567705
Comments: 50
Kudos: 293





	dealbreaker

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this fic is, but it was a convo I had on Tumblr with @youwerenevermine and evolved from there so it's her fault, LOL. Inspired by the quirkiness that would be Jon and Dany in a modern world, which sometimes they don't quite always understand.

* * *

“Jon, we’re going to be late for our tour, come on!” Dany fussed with her bag, making sure she had all the items she needed. She tried to stuff another travel pack of disinfectant wipes—can never have too many in this day and age—into the small wallet-sized crossbody purse she elected to carry instead of her massive tote-bag. Partially because after an hour her other bag started to painfully dig into her shoulder and partially because the security at the Meereen Pyramid only allowed them to enter with nothing larger than a wallet.

She wondered if she could potentially fold up her other bag and _make_ it wallet-sized, when she heard the ‘clip-clop’ of Jon’s sandal slides on the tile floor. Their rental house was big enough for them, her best friend Missy and her husband Grey, Jon’s sister and boyfriend, and Jon’s tagalong friend Tormund, who was currently baking alive at the beach after scoring himself a vacation girlfriend in the form of a tall blonde woman who Dany was pretty sure would use the story as a cautionary tale of what happened when you had too many Wildfire Cocktails after ten.

“Ready.”

Dany tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing over her shoulder at Jon, who was standing behind her with his hands in his pockets. She paused, halfway turned back. _Wait…what…_ She blinked and turned completely around again. She stared at him, looking him up and down.

They had only been dating like six months. This was their first big trip away. They thought they would make it easier by bringing some others with them, to lessen the anxiety of a major couple’s trip that wasn’t just for a quick little weekend stint to the mountains or to Dragonstone. She knew Jon had some quirks. Just like she did. They coped with them. She hated tomatoes so she always picked them off and gave them to Jon. Jon for some reason, always had to scratch his balls when there was an ambulance driving by. She let it go.

He didn’t seem to understand or like why she always _folded_ her dirty laundry. He put up with it when she rummaged in his dirty clothes and folded them in the basket. She tolerated his habit of chewing on the ends of pens, since he had quit smoking a couple years ago and it was his nervous tic.

_But no. Dealbreaker._

She pointed to his feet. “No,” she blurted out.

Jon looked from his phone in his hand to his feet. He frowned. “You think sandals might be too relaxed? They’re comfortable for walking, we’re going to be walking.”

“The sandals are fine, it’s what your feet are wrapped in that is the problem.”

He wiggled his toes. She closed her eyes, hoping to burn the image out. “What’s the problem? My feet sometimes get cold in the air con. This is the best solution.”

“It isn’t a solution. Take off the socks and wear the sandals or take off the sandals and put on trainers.” She blocked the door, when he tried to walk around her, rolling his eyes. She shook her head, warning him. “I’m serious.”

Jon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He tapped his foot, scowling. “I don’t get it! Who cares what I wear?”

“I care.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” He asked it not as though he was ashamed or insecure, but with a haughty defiance. _Daring_ her to say yes so, they could argue. She glanced at her watch; they had a specific time slot for the pyramid tour and if they carried on like this, they were going to miss it.

So she rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Yes Jon, yes I’m embarrassed of you because you behave like you were born a sixty-five-year-old man.”

His mouth dropped open. “What!?”

“The socks and sandals? Only the tip of the iceberg. You also wear thick knit cardigans…” Dany had barely gotten that out before Jon interrupted.

“I get cold!”

“You’re from Winterfell!” Her brows arched to her hairline. She jabbed her finger into his hard chest. “And because you _stole_ one of my cardigans!”

He sniffed. “Well Ms. Fashionista if we’re going to start with this, what about your wallpaper?”

 _Wallpaper?_ “What’s my wallpaper have to do with anything? We’re talking about you!”

“It looks like it came from my granny’s house.”

She gaped. “Oh yeah! Well you can barely work your phone, you only got rid of your flip phone because it broke in half!”

“So what? That was a good phone!”

In their arguing, they had gotten toe-to-toe. She knew this because his socks were scratching against her bare ones, peeking from her sandals. She stared at him a moment, watching his gray eyes darken practically black, his pale cheeks turn a little flushed from the riling anger. They had been outside quite a bit; the only indication he had actually gotten sun was the fact that if she looked closely enough, she could see around his eyes was downright snow-white. Plus the tip of his nose was an adorable shiny red.

She licked her lips, pressing closer to him, whispering, unable to help her gaze from falling to his lips, to see his reaction; his breath quickened. “Deal…breaker.”

Jon squinted for a brief moment. She thought he’d get mad again, maybe say she was foolish. They’d have a major row on their first big vacation. It would be awkward. No one would want to hang out with them for the rest of the week and they’d never be friends with anyone again. Except…he grabbed hold of her waist, tugging her up to him, sweeping her lips up with his in an intense, heated kiss.

Dany dropped her purse, where it made a loud ‘clunk’ on the floor and jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist. “We’re going to miss the tour,” she panted, breaking just long enough to take a deep gulp of breath.

“Fuck the tour,” Jon replied.

“Okay.” They stumbled to their bedroom, where she pushed him onto the bed, and he dropped the sandals to the floor. She yanked at his socks, wagging it at him before throwing it aside. “Dealbreaker Snow. I get one, you get one. Deal?”

He grinned. “Deal.” He waggled his brows. “Can’t wait to see what yours is.”

She snorted. “I don’t have dealbreakers.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

"Dealbreaker."

The word was out before Jon even fully registered the entire outfit his girlfriend had appeared in, ready to go to the beach. They were taking a few days to visit her brother at the family estate on Dragonstone Island and would end up in the tiny little village nearby for dinner. He was excited; it was his favorite Ibben restaurant, they had the best noodles. There would be no returning to the estate, and he was _not_ going to be see with her looking like how she did.

Dany held her hands out. "What?"

The cute little flowered tank over her bikini— he could see the red straps peeking out—was fine, along with her high-waisted jean shorts that did look a little 'mom', flaring over her hips from the nipped in waist over her belly button. She wore leather slide sandals and her toes were painted alternating red and black. She looked fucking adorable.

Except for the hat.

Or maybe it wasn't a hat. Maybe it was a UFO. It was a weird visor thing that curved over her face from ear to ear like an umbrella, sticking out almost a full foot, shielding her almost entirely. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on the other side of the Velcro strap holding it to her head. It was beige and weird looking, and he had no idea what to make of it. Just that she wasn't wearing it out in public. You couldn't even see her adorable little smile and her eyes. If she put sunglasses on with it—he didn't know why she would—she would look dwarfed.

He shook his head again, arms crossing over his chest. "The hat thing. Nope. Dealbreaker."

"It's to keep the sun off my face! Look at my skin!" She jabbed her arm out, showing him the difference in tone from under her arm to the top. There was a weird shade of almost milk white to creamy tan to a reddish brown. She pouted. "I'm starting to burn! I can't have that on my face, I'm supposed to be in court next week! No jury will take me seriously."

The fact that she worried what a jury would think of her nose while parading in front of them wearing her sharp little power suits and stilettos, with her trademark braids and her powerful, commanding arguments, but she wasn't worried what people would think of her wearing such a hat, he didn't understand. "No one will look at your nose," he said. "It's a cute little nose. besides, it could be worse." He pointed to his face, which had a nice little reddish shine on it. "Look at me!"

"Well you wouldn't put on the zinc oxide like I told you sweetheart, your skin is as fresh as a baby's bottom." She patted his cheek and he scowled. She smiled sweetly. "I’m wearing my visor."

"How come you can wear that thing and I can't war my socks and sandals?" he'd tried again, not even thinking about it, back home when they were going out for groceries and she'd had a fit. He would not stop trying. They were comfortable. He followed her from the kitchen to the coatroom, where she was rummaging in her bag to make sure she had what they needed for the beach.

"Because I'm me and you're you."

"Double standard."

"No one said a relationship has to be completely fair when it comes to fashion choices." She turned, tossing him a smile, one he could barely see for her hat. "I'm wearing this. It's a health choice."

"That hat looks like a spaceship."

"It is not!"

"I was taken aboard that hat."

"Clearly, it would account for so many things."

He rolled his eyes; he did walk into that one. He rushed after her, towards the car. He didn't get why they were going to a public beach anyway when Rhaegar had a perfectly good private one at Dragonstone, but fine. "Dany come on! You look like a tiny granny."

"I am not!"

"You had to upgrade your phone and you got all confused and couldn't even back it up to the computer."

"Says Mr. Flip-phone."

"I gave that up and I love my new phone." He did actually really like it; he could take better pictures with it, even if sometimes he felt like all he did was use it as just a camera and a text device. He had no social media, desire for it, and hated talking on the thing. He whimpered. "Come on Dany, you can't even see your pretty eyes."

That had her pausing, opening the driver's side; when they were at Dragonstone, they drove Rhaegar's antique convertible and only Dany was allowed. Rhaegar said he didn't trust a Northerner who clearly only knew how to use sled dogs to get around. Jon didn't argue with him; he was basically Dany's father and not brother, and one day when they married, he would have to ask Rhaegar for her hand and he really didn't want to have to fight him.

She turned, locking those pretty eyes on him. "But if I wear sunglasses you can't see my pretty eyes."

"But what if you wear my hat? You know, the one that you got me in Meereen." He loved that hat. It was a silly little tourist hat from a stall in one of the markets but for some reason it was really comfortable and had withstood a lot. Morning runs, work around the house, the range, everything. He smiled briefly, just a little one, just like she liked. It was working, she was softening, her bottom lip tugged under her teeth. "It looks so cute on you. Besides..." He sidled to her, tugging her waist around to him and he dipped his head, the visor smacking him straight in the eyes. He pouted. "I can't kiss you with this thing."

The lip worried more under her teeth. "Hmm...well...I do like kissing you."

"I know you do, and I love kissing you."

She removed the hat, frowning a little and looking back to him. "This isn't a dealbreaker, you can't use it on me again."

"Fine," he agreed instantly; anything so she didn't wear that hat. It looked so dumb on her. He lifted her slightly off the ground and she immediately placed her little feet atop his. He hugged her, grinning. "I love you."

"I love you too." She kissed him and sighed, as he began to peck down to her neck. "Hmm, let's forget the beach and stay here." She glanced at the hat in her hand. "If we are the only ones on the private beach...."

"Say no more." He swept her up into his arms, carrying her towards the path to the private beach, giggling with her as they made their way there, not having to worry about hats or even clothes.

* * *

Dany rummaged in one of the boxes that had found its way in the bedroom _after_ she had already finished unpacking the towering stack in the corner. "Who did this?" she mumbled, glancing at the writing on the side. In Jon's untidy scrawl, was just the word 'Stuff.' She hummed loudly, annoyed at his lack of description, as it could have been anything. For instance, her 'Bedroom Stuff' he had decided to open in plain view of all their friends had been her sex toy collection.

She picked up the scissors, slicing through the thick tape holding the moving box together and pushed the flaps apart, rummaging through a random assortment of stuff. There were a few baseball caps, a couple random football jerseys, a backpack with Jon's primary school seal on it—she pulled it out to coo over the adorable little wolf cub lolling its tongue under the block letters 'Winter Town Primary- Home of the Wolf Pups'—and last but not least, tons of random magazines and newspapers.

"Jon!" she called. "What is this stuff and why is it in our room?"

"I don't know" came from the office, where he was singlehandedly trying to put together a bookcase. All she heard was a series of grunts, curses, and banging that might have been his head on a wall. She would go assist soon enough, but figured she'd let him exhaust himself first.

She reached into the box and came up with something else, something that had her mouth falling open, and her head shaking. "Oh no." She pushed the box aside and marched to the office, seeing Jon sprawled out on his back, trying to screw in something underneath a shelf, a flashlight caught in his teeth. She waved the offending item. "Dealbreaker!"

The shelf fell, hitting him in the forehead. "Fuck!" he shouted. He glared at her. "I almost had it!"

Ghost, his wolf and the only man she told Jon she would ever leave him for if it came to it, sniffed at the item and wrinkled his nose, clearly in agreement with her. He shot Jon a disgusted look and returned to his corner, where he had been watching the entertainment. "Dealbreaker," she repeated.

"Why? Because I have a bum bag?"

"For many, many, _many_ reasons this is a dealbreaker." She shook her head, eyes closing. "Jon, my love, my heart, my soulmate...we just purchased a house together and we're getting married and...and you have a bum bag and never told me."

"What's the big deal?"

"When have you ever used it?"

He shrugged, climbing to his feet and took the item, a nylon black thing with two pouches. He wrapped it around his waist and clipped it, pushing it over to the side and posing. "You don't think it looks good? It keeps your hands free when you're walking. You can put your phone in it, wallet...."

"Your dignity."

"Hey," he huffed. His gray eyes twinkled; she had to believe he was enjoying this and not serious, although who knows. He had still tried to justify socks and sandals, as recently as the previous month.

She couldn’t believe it. He actually was caressing it rather fondly. “Jon you’re burning that thing.”

“I will not!”

“Um, yes you will.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, defying her. “And what about your sun hat?”

“What about it?”

“It was a dealbreaker for me and we agreed to rescind it, I still have a dealbreaker. I’ll give it up if you let me keep this.”

It was a rather bold argument to make, but she didn’t understand, because he _never_ had to use a dealbreaker on her. Certainly she didn’t own anything as offensive as the bum bag. “Jon, middle-aged tourists from far off realms wear bum bags.” She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Come on, some are stylish these days.”

“Those are designer brands and they wear them over their shoulders or something, this looks like you got it for free with purchase.” The way he looked away told her that she was spot on. She closed her eyes. “Gods Jon.”

“It was free with purchase with my running shoes!”

“Probably because they didn’t know what else to do with them.”

“It works, I’m keeping it.” To be annoying, Jon took his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into the bag, then he gathered up his tools and did the same. He made a face. “There!” He pushed it around on his narrow hips, where it hit against his bottom and he marched out of the room. “I’m using it and you can’t stop me.”

“No I can’t,” she agreed. Dany watched him leave, shaking her head. Jon Snow was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, but even he couldn’t pull off a nylon bum bag. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to burn the image from her mind, and then thought of something. She smirked.

Not many knew it, but Jon could be a little vain.

He worked out rather obsessively and it wasn’t just to stay in shape and healthy. She hurried after him, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he was unpacking one of the other boxes. “Oh Jon.”

“I’m not getting rid of it.”

“I didn’t say anything about that.” Dany sighed, dramatically. “It’s just I see a downfall of the bum bag.”

“There is no downfall.”

She walked over to him and turned him gently to face her; as carefully as she could, she kept her face rather blank. Her eyes glanced to the nylon strap around his hips and she lowered her fingers, reaching around to try to grab his taut butt, but found her pathway blocked. She whimpered. “I can’t get it.” She sighed, moving the strap around and bringing the bag itself to his front. She moved her hands back, happily chortling when she dug her fingers into the hard muscle of his arse. He jumped, but only because she tried to grind her hips into his.

And was blocked by the bag.

Jon’s gray gaze fell from her to the bag between them. He closed his eyes briefly. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “It’s in the way.”

“I mean, I know when we go on vacation and well, we obviously won’t be doing this all the time on tours and stuff, but it just…you know it adds an extra roadblock so to speak.” Dany grinned, almost batting her eyelashes. _This is too easy._ “So I don’t think we need to use it. You can use your backpack. I can still access my favorite body part of yours with a backpack.” She nipped at his bottom lip, whispering. “And there’s more room for my knickers.”

The bag fell to the kitchen floor with a loud thud, Jon lifting her up and placing her on their newly installed granite countertops. “We haven’t christened the kitchen yet,” he teased.

“Well by all means, let’s do so now.” She grabbed his arse again, giggling. “Without anything to block this fine piece of work.”

The bum bag lasted only a day before disappearing; Dany wasn’t sure where it went, she hoped Jon hadn’t hidden it somewhere, but figured it out when they went to a football game and Gendry showed up with it around his waist, a very annoyed Arya at his side. He was quite excited to show it off, Jon nodding along in agreement, while Arya glowered.

* * *

"What's keeping her?"

Jon glanced at his watch, not too concerned they would miss their reservation, but more wondering why Dany _was_ taking so long. He glanced at Missandei, who was playing with Drogon, the massive fluffy black cat finding the gold accent on her sandals to be very fascinating. His brothers lurked from nearby, not willing to get close enough to bother him. "I don't know, but I'll go find her if she's still..."

he didn't need to finish, because Dany called down the stairs. "I'm coming! Sorry, this baby has me peeing every five seconds. Thank you Jon."

"You're welcome," he idly answered, although not sure why she was thanking him for anything. She'd been doing odd things like that lately, he chalked it up to _pregnancy brain._ He wondered why Grey and Missandei both gave each other a look indicating he was stupid, but he didn't ask them either. They usually looked at him like he was the odd one out. When it was all four of them, he was. He just hoped they wouldn't start talking about him in Valyrian like they sometimes did

He glanced up at Dany, walking down the stairs, and his eyes widened. "Dealbreaker," he exclaimed.

Missy and Grey exchanged another look. "We'll be outside," Grey said immediately, taking Missy's hand and wisely escaping to the porch.

Dany stood at the bottom of the steps, hands out to her sides. "What's wrong?"

"Nope, turn around."

"I like this dress!"

"Where'd you find it?" he weakly asked.

One of the things he loved most about his Dany was that she really did not care what anyone thought. There had been a period for a brief time where she fretted over his godsawful rude family members, but when she realized that they would dislike her no matter what, because they were xenophobic and racists arseholes he barely tolerated, she gave up and returned to her general attitude of just not caring. Other than the _one time_ he made her get rid of her silly sun hat— _years_ ago—he never commented on some of her odd clothing choices.

She liked patterns, mixing the patterns, vintage clothes, and very strange shoes. Always wearing heels, she would wear some odd things. Clogs, platform sandals, chunky weird heels she found in thrift store discount bins. Jon suspected it was because when she was in court, in feisty prosecutor mode, she was straight-laced, buttoned-up, and wore the drab grays and blacks that was required in the Kings Landing courtrooms. Once she finished her day, she let herself shine.

This though, nope.

Dany glared at him. "It's vintage!"

"It looks like a shower curtain!"

"It's vintage!" she repeated again, like he was supposed to know what that meant.

The flower-patterned dress that appeared to be a circus tent if not a shower curtain, had the same similar look of the wallpaper throughout her old house, which he had to usually close his eyes and stumble through, because it hurt them so much. It was just. He sighed. "Dany, you look like a tiny granny."

"I'm not tiny, look." She lifted the hem of the skirt and he clenched his eyes shut at the sight. She was wearing her ridiculous platform cork clogs. She giggled. "These are _soooo_ comfortable and you know my feet have swollen, thanks to you."

Jon was going to forever guilt his child whenever they arrived for all that she blamed _him_ for when it was really the _baby_. He walked over and lightly patted the side of her belly, which had just popped the other day from her little waist. "Dany, sweetie..."

"Don’t you Dany sweetie me! I like this dress and I'm wearing it." She huffed, walking—waddling—to the front door, the clogs clomping loudly in her wake. She ran her hand over the dress, patting the side of her belly. "It's cute. It’s a housedress."

"Dany," he groaned. It was so odd looking. Pastels, drab...he could at least understand if it was bright, but it really did look like the damask wallpaper she'd had throughout her old house and had tried to put in theirs. He'd compromised and let her put up the wallpaper she adored so much in one of the guest rooms.

Dany spun around on her clogs, almost toppling over; Jon didn't want to tell her that the baby books said her center of gravity would be off and so she probably shouldn't be wearing those shoes, but he valued his life and right now he was risking it with criticizing her dress. She glared at him. "It's my dress. It's cute."

"Dealbreaker," he repeated. He had to give up his bum bag, his socks and sandals...he shuddered to think of the argument they'd had over his cardigans last winter.

She wrinkled her nose, eyes narrowed. "Seriously? You're going to use a dealbreaker on a housedress?"

"On that one, yes."

"What do you care?"

"What do you care about my socks and sandals?"

Dany stared at him for a brief moment and then groaned, stomping by him towards the stairs, wagging her finger. "This is not over Jon Snow."

 _I do not doubt it._ He waited for her to change and when she did, he supposed he deserved it. She was wearing one of her odd combinations. The clogs with a pair of patterned pants and a plain white shirt, but a jacket over top with another pattern, clashing. He sighed, offering her his hand. "Shall we?"

She stared at him and rolled her eyes, taking his hand. "I don't know why I love you."

"I love you," he said, sweetly, kissing her cheek. He wrapped his arm around her waist, walking out to the patio, rubbing the side of her belly. He heard a little giggle in the back of her throat; she tried to hide it with a cough. He repeated it again, nuzzling her cheek, smiling stupidly. He repeated his statement. "I love you."

"You're annoying."

"I love you."

"You're an idiot."

"I love you."

She finally turned to face him, when they got to the car where Missy and Grey were already waiting. They shared a quick kiss and she rubbed some lipstick from his upper lip. "Dork," she mumbled.

Jon didn't disagree.

* * *

Dany was over it.

She honestly could not care anymore about anything, because there was nothing else in the world to care about, because the only thing that ever mattered to her was the sweet little girl nestled against her breast, mouth slightly ajar, pink lips damp with the milk she'd just guzzled like a thirsty man in a desert at his first sip of water. She traced the little lips with the tip of her pinkie finger, gazing at the perfection. Little cap of dark hair curling over her ears, her delicate eyelids fluttering over her deep purple irises, with a hint of gray on the edges of the pupil.

She got up carefully from the nursing chair, carrying her daughter out of the room. Dany _knew_ she needed to lay her daughter in her crib to sleep, but she couldn't let her go just yet. She walked into Jon's study, finding him half-asleep with his head propped on his hand, laptop open and Ghost drooling on his knee, a rope toy between his teeth, silently begging for attention.

one-handed, she tossed the rope, pleasing Ghost. The movement woke Jon, who jumped slightly. He blinked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She eat?" he mumbled; hands outstretched.

"Yes, she's done." Dany reluctantly passed over sweet little Lyanna to her father, who did the same thing she always did when she got her after lifting her from the crib or the bath or really anywhere— took a nice deep inhale of baby scent from the top of Lya's little head. He sighed, slightly glazed over. It was a drug; she was positive of it. She glanced out the window; they were at Dragonstone for a few weeks, taking a little break from the world to savor their newborn, just them. "Want to go on a walk?"

"Yeah, sounds good." He stood and walked towards the door.

Dany glanced at his feet, shaking her head slightly, but said nothing, more amused than anything. He was wearing black socks with his gray slip-on suede sandals. She said nothing, going to their room to change from her nursing shirt, which she noted at spots of milk and baby spit up on it. She rummaged in the closet and chuckled, coming up with one of her housedresses he couldn't stand. It was comfy and she was still swollen from housing a baby inside of her for nine months, so she threw it on, grateful for the roominess.

She knew it was a little chilly, even though the sun was blazing bright. They would bundle up Lyanna of course before taking her out, but she didn't want to worry about burning. She rummaged, digging in some of the random bits of clothing that had migrated from their house to Dragonstone on each weekend trip. "Aha!" she exclaimed, coming up with the item she wanted.

Downstairs, Jon was fighting with the baby sling while also holding Lya, fast asleep. He'd put on one of his grandpa cardigans, a thick knit that was gray and had loose bits of yarn tugging free. With his 'dad' jeans as she called them and his socks and sandals, she only shook her head at him, sighing. She reached over to help him. "Let me take her, you got her on the last walk," she pouted.

They squared off, stubborn, and she thought it was a little silly how they were about to fight over who got to hold their baby longer. _My what a thing to fight about_ , she thought with a quirk of her lips. Jon relented and helped her with the sling, not even saying a word about her dress or her clogs. She cuddled Lyanna to her chest, strapped tightly in the scarf-like sling and then placed her sun hat on her head, strapping the Velcro behind her head.

She glanced at Jon, who rummaged in the closet. "What are you looking for?"

"Just stuff for her." He came out holding wipes, a couple diapers, and one of the disposable changing pads she liked to carry around just in case they needed to set her on a rock or something. It had happened a couple of times. He held them in one hand and then looked at his phone in the other. He frowned, turning around. "Where am I supposed to put all this? I don't want to carry a bag."

"I don't know. Just bring her baby bag."

"It's a pain and we're just going on a walk."

She shrugged, unconcerned; he would figure it out, he was so smart like that. She had her baby sleeping against her chest, their hearts in tandem. She left, waiting for him outside. She stroked her daughter's little head, gazing lovingly at her . "Your Daddy is crazy," she cooed.

Ghost appeared at her side a moment later, waiting for Jon before he bounded off, trotting down the path they normally took away from the estate itself. She glanced at Jon, frowning briefly; he'd added his bum bag, which somehow had ended up back in their possession. She didn't say anything, and he swiveled it around to his side, his hand reaching to take hers, both of their arms entwining together, walking off down the path.

They walked for a little while, quiet between them, comforted by the other's presence, and their daughter sleeping peacefully. Ghost ran ahead, sniffing here and there, bouncing on his paws, and tail a white blur wagging so fast. She rested her head on his shoulder. The sun hat kept the sun out of her eyes and when she glanced up, she saw him gazing at her, absolutely adoring. She grinned. "Hi," she murmured.

He ducked his head slightly, to get underneath the brim, even if it did poke him in the forehead and managed to barely kiss her. "Hi. You're adorable. Even in your little granny outfit."

She giggled. "So says you grandpa." They were quite a pair. She in her housedress and clogs and sunhat. Him in his heavy knit cardigan, socks and sandals, and with that damn bag. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. He needed to get a new pair. She fully expected him to show up with some that were from 100 years ago. She let go of his hand and her arm went around his waist, tucking into the pocket of his shorts. Because he was wearing shorts with his cardigan and socks and sandals.

He held her close, his hand snaked around her upper arm to tuck between her elbow and her side. After a few minutes, he released a heavy sigh. "You don't care about the socks and sandals?"

"I've given up the fight. Just don't go after my housedresses."

"Would never."

They paused at one of the cliffs, looking out at the azure blue water crashing to the rocks underneath. It was still though, quiet, despite the chaos happening in the water below. They glanced at each other once more. She grinned, unable to help herself. "I love you, you dork."

He laughed, his entire face lighting up with his smile. He kissed her, mumbling against her mouth. "I love you too, you little tiny granny."

"We're made for each other, aren't we?"

"She's going to be so embarrassed by us." He touched Lyanna's head, her scrunched face turning slightly in the sling, eyes flickering open to look at him. He stroked her face. "You ready Lya? Ready to be embarrassed by us?"

"She may already be."

"Is it a dealbreaker?" he asked Lya, eyebrows lifting at her tiny puckered frown, face scrunching in annoyance at something. "Us being your parents?"

Lya cried, wiggling against her. She laughed, looking up to kiss Jon again. "Well too bad sweetling, you're stuck with us. Your dorky grandparently parents."

"Maybe she can help me fix my phone."

"Jon! What did you do to it? It's brand new!"

"I don't know, it's too hard to work."

"Dork."

He kissed her again, blowing raspberries against her mouth, laughing as she squealed and tried to get away, but he just grabbed her about the waist, pinning their baby between them, laughing. "And so are you."

Dany laughed; she agreed, but she would never say it. She was a dork. She was _his_ dork and he was hers.


End file.
